Unexpected
by Enslavement-Thesis
Summary: Matsuda decides that he is fed up with being a liability rather than an asset, and in taking steps to remedy the situation, forms an unlikely relationship between himself and a man he never thought to.
1. Matsuda!

Unexpected

**Disclaimer: This girl does not own Death Note**

**Summary:** Matsuda decides that he is fed up with being a liability rather than an asset, and in taking steps to remedy the situation, forms an unlikely relationship between himself and a man he never thought to.  
**Rating:** NC17/R

It is predominantly an L/Matsuda fiction, but there will be mild L/Light and some L/Light/Matsuda, which should be adequate fanservice for all of the fan girls out there.

It will be about nine chapters long, and it will contain spoilers from the Yotsuba arc onwards.

**Unexpected.**

"_Matsuda!"_

He couldn't get it out of his mind.

Ryuuzaki's voice, uncharacteristic in its harshness, hurt him in more ways than it should have.

That one word; his name, it kept running through his head, again and again.

_Matsuda!_

The sharpness, made more obvious by the obviously contrived gentleness of his next words, the addition of the almost intimate and certainly polite honorific that had been absent when his name was shouted.

He was just trying to help, to be useful.

Instead, Ryuuzaki had shouted.

Ryuuzaki _never_ shouted.

Matsuda had never heard him raise his voice at all. Hell, Ryuuzaki had probably never yelled at anyone in his lifetime.

The only time he had, it had been at _him. _At_ Matsuda._

_Matsuda._

_Matsuda!_

His words were almost a snarl, and it had shocked the young officer to the core. But what had hurt most were the words that followed.

He had asked him leave and to go and to make him coffee. As if all he was good for was the making of beverages. As if he was so hopeless and useless that he couldn't help, that he couldn't do something praiseworthy other than make a palatable cup of blasted coffee.

So he wasn't as good at this kind of detective work? He wasn't cut out for the underhandedness, all of the second guessing and the theories: the lack of anything solid to base _any_ of their ideas.

He was an honest person; this didn't come naturally to him!

It didn't mean he wasn't a good officer. He was a good officer, he knew that. He didn't exactly finish at the top of his class, but he was pretty close up there, and he had had enough experience in the field to merit a little respect, but everybody treated him as if he were stupid.

Even Light (who was years his junior) had the audacity to call him an airhead.

He was fed up with it.

He was sick of being hurt, and mocked and ignored, of being treated like a wayward child instead of an adult. He could only think of one way that he could be seen as an adult in Ryuuzaki's eyes.

In Ryuuzaki's lonely eyes.

Matsuda was not entirely stupid, after all. He was dense sometimes, he would admit that, but he was not as brainless as everybody seemed to assume he was.

He had noticed the looks that the staff and strangers gave Misa. He had looked at her in much the same way as everybody else had a number of times.

What he had also noticed was the lack of those certain looks that Light gave Misa: beautiful (If absent minded) Misa, who very obviously adored him.

But that was no more a secret than the facts that Misa was very attractive and that everybody thought so were secrets.

Everyone knew that Light treated Misa's hero worship of him with a kind of polite exasperation and slight discomfort.

No, what _was_ a secret, what also had not escaped Matsuda's notice was the fact that Ryuuzaki was also not above giving those looks.

But the receptacle of those looks was not the cute, blonde pouting model, but Yagami Light.

Yagami Light, The handsome and rather winsome teenaged boy whom Ryuuzaki suspected of being Kira and who was also the chief's son.

Ryuuzaki wanted Light, and it appeared that Matsuda was the only one other than Ryuuzaki who was aware of this.

This left Matsuda at a bit of an advantage.

At a very large advantage, actually.

And, contrary to popular belief, Matsuda wasn't a total idiot.

He knew what he could do with this.

Ryuuzaki would have to see him in a different light; he would know that Matsuda is not was useless and stupid as he thought: that he could do something nobody else could.

He just had to get him alone.


	2. Implementation

Alright

Alright. Well, she wasn't planning to give this out until next week, but, she thought that she would give this out early, just as a special treat. She hopes You all enjoy it.

Disclaimer: She does not own Death Note, or any of its characters.

Chapter 2. Implementation.

It should be easy, catching Ryuuzaki without the others around.

It was just a matter of waiting.

Unfortunately, he was not cut out for waiting - he never had been - so those few hours until the other officers had said their sleepy goodnights and retired very late in the evening (or early in the morning, depending on which way you looked at it), seemed like an absolute eternity.

He sat there on the maroon-ish sofa at the large, lowly slung wooden table, attempting to concentrate on the ever growing pile of paper in front of him, but instead his mind kept running through the _plan_, which he had taken to calling it, again and again.

To his defense, he had only come up with the plan the day before yesterday, but it had been in his mind for a while in the form on half conjured fantasies and vague images. Upon the coherent formulation of all of these ideas in to one large and woven together design and into an almost reality, it was hard to stop them from just circulating around and around in his head.

He was distracted, to say the least.

After numerous queries in regards to his health and state of mind, all of which were brushed off with an airy wave of his hand and a nervous laugh, Matsuda pretended to write notes, all the while thinking about what was going to occur this evening and fidgeting worriedly with the pen held in his right hand, while his left was frequently wiped on the leg of his slacks.

His acting was passable enough to relax the mild concerns of his workmates, who went back to pretending he did not exist.

For once, it didn't bother him.

Ignoring the fact that hunching over a table that only came to his knee was giving him a shocking backache, Matsuda waited impatiently for everyone to just get the hell out of there.

Finally, after the last man left - Matsuda didn't really notice who, nor did he care - he knew that it was now or never.

Unfortunately, he had spent more time worrying about how plan could go wrong (And the possibilities _of_ the idea itself), that he had spent little time _actually _formulating the exact course of action he was going to follow _when_ he caught the detective alone; something which he was now regretting.

What the hell was he going to say?

Matsuda went to stand from the couch that was the colour of bruised plum on which he was perched, his eyes fixed upon the slender back slouching in its seat ahead of him. To the right of the white clad man, a brunet was absently perusing a pile of papers, very obviously disinterested in them.

Light was with still him?

Oh right, the _handcuffs._

That was something he should have thought of. Well, it couldn't be helped, he supposed. He wouldn't let it deter him.

Adamant that his pounding heart could be heard by the other two, he pushed out his chair as noiselessly as he could muster, anxious not to let them know he was still there.

Well, not yet anyway.

"Yes Matsuda?" Ryuuzaki's soft voice queried.

_Damn_.

"Ohh. Uhh...h-hey, Ryuuzaki," Matsuda sputtered as eloquently as he could muster.

Light looked up in surprise.

Matsuda was relieved that he had at least he had managed to speak up on somebody.

The chair to the left swivelled around, revealing a distinctly pale young man with wild hair and eyes as black and as round as coal who had been, if the officer wasn't mistaken, building a pyramid out of sugar cubes before he had been interrupted.

"What can we do for you at this hour of the evening, Matsuda?" He was always so softly spoken, even if his words were often as blunt as baseball bat.

Ryuuzaki's voice always left him a little surprised. Not just because of its surprisingly gentle baritone, but the fact that it had an almost sensual feel that Ryuuzaki seemed completely oblivious of.

For once it did nothing to calm Matsuda's nerves.

There was an enormous lump in his throat that he couldn't quite dislodge, making it difficult to speak, and he could feel sweat trickling down the back of his neck, dampening the collar of the nice shirt he had specifically put on for the occasion.

He couldn't seize up now, not after all of his planning

.

He had to do this!

He took a deep breath, and spoke with a quiver, hoping desperately that Ryuuzaki did not pick up on it even as he knew there was no possibility that he wouldn't.

"I have been thinking, you know, about everything," Matsuda started, fidgeting nervously.

_Oh, that was a fantastic start_, He snapped in his own mind, disgusted;_You sound really confident._

Exasperated at himself and as scared as hell, he continued, "I don't seem to be doing much; and nobody seems to take me seriously."

Ryuuzaki opened his mouth to speak around the thumb he had jammed in it, but Matsuda raised his hand in an appeal for silence, walking towards him on awkward feet.

"Please, let me finish!" He begged, and Ryuuzaki nodded, his thumb leaving his lips, choosing instead to follow the rest of his hand in wrapping around his slender calves.

It probably would have been peculiar if it didn't.

Light was watching the exchange with interest, but too said nothing.

Matsuda ceased his steps once he was scant inches from the detective's slender toes. He looked down at the face turned up to him.

Really, those bland eyes were such a distraction.

"I was thinking that you guys are right. I really _am_ pretty useless to this investigation. All I am really doing here is making everyone cups of coffee, and getting yelled at for saying stupid things. I am not doing anything helpful and it's driving me crazy."

"...Matsuda," Ryuuzaki began, and his voice sounded almost…regretful?

"So," He overrode him, knowing that if he was stopped now, if he didn't say it now he never would, that he would make up some inane excuse, some dull and stupid explanation, and the plan in his head would be that, just a plan, and regret: a reinforcement of his own cowardice, and it was this thought that spurred him on.

"I was wondering what I could possibly do to help, and I realised something. That I _can_ help, in a way. In a way that not even somebody like Light or the Chief can."

That did it: Ryuuzaki's dull eyes held a glimmer of interest.

"And how is that, Matsuda?"

This was it, he couldn't hesitate now.

His heart was thudding in his chest as he swooped down and caught the detective's lips in a gentle kiss.

Light made a strangled noise.

He could feel the young man stiffen beneath him but he didn't pull away, which Matsuda took as a good sign.

Ignoring Light, Matsuda deepened the kiss cautiously, slowly sliding his tongue across Ryuuzaki's plump lower lip. The mouth beneath his opened slightly, allowing the older man entrance, which he accepted gladly and his tongue slipped inside almost eagerly, delicately tracing the contours of lip, tongue and teeth.

His lips were softer than he thought they would be, almost feminine, and Matsuda could taste tea and sweetness, and he was not really surprised, but a little disappointed all the same.

The detective sat calmly, permitting his mouth to be delicately plundered, but made no move of his own. However, the older man could have sworn he heard - nay _felt - _his breath catch slightly against him.

After what seemed like an age, Matsuda ended the kiss, pulling away from the detective beneath him. He stood there, half leant over and one hand braced on his knee, struggling to still his thundering heart.

"I can give you that, and everything else that comes with it," he said finally, his voice still shaky, but now for a different reason. "If you don't want it, tell me now, and we will pretend this never happened. But I promise you, you will be missing out."

He spoke with a confidence that wasn't there.

Ryuuzaki said nothing, merely examining the clearly nervous man in front of him.

And he was; his palms were slick, his gut was tight and it seemed as if he just couldn't get enough air into his lungs.

He stared at him for what seemed like forever, his eyes travelling over the older brunette's form with an unreadable expression.

Matsuda could barely contain the roiling of his insides as those intense eyes bored through him. Even his non existent confidence was leaving him in droves.

Without warning, the detective and his chair spun around rather squeakily and Ryuuzaki tapped his finger on the intercom button.

"Watari," He spoke, and Matsuda's stomach plummeted.

"Yes Sir?" The old gentleman's voice echoed over the loud speaker.

Ryuuzaki hesitated slightly before speaking. "You are dismissed for the rest of the evening, Watari. I shall contact you if I require anything."

"Understood."

There was another click as the intercom was switched off.

Matsuda couldn't hide the grin that crept across his face, or the flush of victory that washed through him as the dark haired man swung the chair back to face him.

"So what was this that you desired to give me?" The younger man's tone was almost playful, and Matsuda's smile widened as he again lowered his mouth to again capture Ryuuzaki's.

"I don't want to be privy to this!" Light, whom Matsuda had actually forgotten about, spluttered with indignation.

He jerked his face up to be greeted with the sight of an obviously very uncomfortable teenager tethered by the wrist to a chain he had pulled taut in an effort to remove himself as far as he could from the situation that he had been presented with.

He was standing half behind his chair, as if it could protect him.

Long fingers in the brunette's hair quickly distracted him as they pulled him back down to Ryuuzaki, and his face was pressed firmly against the slender, pale neck.  
Not being one to miss a point (well, in this case), Matsuda opened his mouth and went to work at the junction of shoulder and neck, licking little circles and worrying it gently with his teeth.

He figured that L would be the one to sort out Light.

He felt the detective turn his head, presumably to face the disgruntled brunette, and distinctly heard him say; "Perhaps Light should have thought of that before he agreed to become chained to me in order to prove his innocence."

"How did I know that something like this would happen?" Light sounded angry.

"There was a three percent chance of something like this occurring: Light should have taken that into account."

Matsuda migrated north, from the neck up to the bottom of the jaw, trailing his lips it before slowly moving to the shell of the detective's ear, tracing it with his tongue and breathing softly in to it. He was rewarded with a slight tug on his hair as the fingers wrapped in it curled.

"Please unlock me from the handcuffs so I can go upstairs," the adolescent begged.

"Then I could not monitor Light's actions," Ryuuzaki pointed out.

"You can watch the video feed later." Light returned.

"Indeed then it could be too late Light, especially seeming as I have nobody to monitor the screens while I am busy."

"Please Ryuuzaki, let me leave."

"No." His tone was flat. There was an outraged silence from Light.

Matsuda used this moment to his advantage and wrapped his lips around a pale earlobe and tugged.

He assumed from the silence that L had won the altercation.

He could not help the slightly smug smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as he suckled on Ryuuzaki's ear lobe.

"You could join in, if you would like." He heard the amusement and the slight hopefulness that probably only he could hear that in Ryuuzaki's voice even as a small sense of indignation ruffled him at the assumption that he would not protest.

Although he knew he wouldn't.

"I am not homosexual Ryuuzaki," Light's voice was cold.

"Engaging in homoerotic activities does not necessarily make one homosexual, Light."

The teen remained stubbornly silent after that.

Matsuda took advantage this to capture L's mouth once again, and to his delight, this time he was met with a response. A tongue crept slowly in to his mouth, even as his sought its own way in to the other's.

He was explored with the same thoroughness that Ryuuzaki gave to all of the tasks at hand. The fingers that were still in his hair tightened to the point that they were almost painful, but Matsuda didn't mind too much.

His tongue caressed the delicate flesh of Ryuuzaki's mouth, stroking softly, flicking against his teeth and sliding against the roof gently.

The detective gasped almost inaudibly and wrapped his other arm around Matsuda's neck, his tongue fighting harder for dominance over the older man, who gladly acquiesced.

Lips still locked, the older man slipped his right hand beneath the hem of the other man's white shirt, sliding his fingertips against the almost unnaturally soft skin of his side, and slowly worked his way up to his chest.

He felt Ryuuzaki shiver slightly, and he downright gasped as Matsuda found an already hard nipple and rolled it between his fingers.

The detective broke the kiss and turned his head, exposing his slender neck, which was eagerly ravaged even as his nipple was pinched and pulled, pulling small inaudible noises from the black haired man.

A sudden movement from below him nearly threw Matsuda off balance.

The older man pulled away and glanced down. To his mild surprise, the dark haired man's knees were no longer sitting at chest level; one leg had been lowered, foot pressed on the floor, and his thighs were spread in a fashion that made Ryuuzaki look so wanton that Matsuda attacked his mouth again.

The raven haired man grabbed Matsuda's free hand and pulled it down to his groin, pressing it pointedly against the hard flesh that was encased by the rough fabric of his jeans.

Such a bold move took Matsuda by surprise.

He hadn't anticipated Ryuuzaki to be such a demanding lover. Images of a shy, retiring (and possible blushing) L came to mind briefly, but they were quickly destroyed when a sharp tug in his hair brought him back to the task at hand (No pun intended): apparently stopping was not an option.

He pressed his hand down firmly and rubbed, and Ryuuzaki arched his hips shamelessly into Matsuda's caresses.

Lust pooled in the older man's abdomen, and he knew that he didn't want to stop, that he couldn't, even if Kira himself were to burst in to the room and begin doing gymnastics.

Ryuuzaki was artless in his desire, making no attempt to disguise his reactions or his enjoyment. He was almost…childish in the simple pleasure he took from Matsuda, and it was absolutely intoxicating.

Black hair slid off a pale face as L threw his head back when the hand at his groin deepened its strokes. The kiss broken, Matsuda instead took the opportunity to ravage the exposed column of throat that was conveniently at mouth level.

A slender hand moved from around his neck, trailing down his back and clenching in the shirt tucked in to the grey slacks belted around his hips, pulling it upwards out of its fabric confinement.

The hand was cool as it slipped underneath the cotton shirt, tracing patterns across sensitive ribs and stomach in a gentle manner that seemed so completely at odds with the harsh hand that was trying its darnedest to rip out of a chunk of Matsuda's dark hair.

It tickled, but it felt so good Matsuda didn't know whether he wanted to squirm and push the hand away or moan loudly and beg for more, so he settled for moving the hand that was abusing Ryuuzaki's left nipple southwards, towards the button on his jeans.

He paused in the ministrations of his right hand briefly to undo the button (he had never managed to be able to pull off doing it with one hand), and pull down the zip with an audible sound.

The position was an awkward one at best, the angle making it difficult to slip his hand inside the opening, but Matsuda managed all the same; his wrist bent at an odd angle and restricted in its movements, but he didn't care, and judging from the sounds he was making, neither did L.

He noisily sucked on the slender neck and half exposed shoulder while he did his best to rub L's cock through the flimsy cotton of his underwear, pushing the heel of his palm into the dampening spot beneath, leaning over Ryuuzaki with his left hand bracing against the back of the chair so he didn't fall on top of him.

He was desperate for those fingers again, fingers that had ceased their tickling when Matsuda had put his hand inside L's pants and instead now dug into his hip at each separate stroke while the other clasped his neck with a lustful kind of desperation that made Matsuda so hot that he just wanted to tear off the other man's clothes right then and let him fuck him until he passed out.

But no, he couldn't do that, he didn't know how far Ryuuzaki was willing to take this, how far he had gone before, and it was only this thought that stopped the older man from throwing himself on the floor with his legs spread and begging the other to fuck him, for god's sake!

This was why he settled with petting, and kissing, letting the man with black hair call the shots, so to speak, because although it was he who had began this, it was not up to him, because it never was up to him, and he really didn't mind.

He was being useful, he was being helpful, so all in all, this was good, even though he wasn't being touched, and he really didn't want it to end.

And so, when Ryuuzaki shifted, bracing his other foot on the floor and extracting both hands from Matsuda so that he could shuck his jeans off, the noise of the chain dangling off of his right wrist a temporary distraction as it clunked inelegantly against the ugly metal chair, Matsuda sunk to his knees happily and breathed hotly against L's arousal through his light grey underwear.

A soft curse from about ten feet away brought him pause.

Light must have glanced over again.

Taking a leaf out of L's book and just ignoring him, Matsuda twined his fingers in the fabric and peeled them downwards, tugging insistently until L seemed to get the point and lifted his hips again.

Effectively releasing the cock from its confines, Matsuda let the cotton pool at L's bony ankles and gave L his full attention.

Well, a certain part of his anatomy anyway.

He breathed on it again with warm breath, and stuck his tongue out and almost shyly licked the head, just under the slit.

He did it again, and then swirled all around it as if it were a lolly the man was so fond of; lapping up the tiny bead of pre come that oozed out. He grasped it at the base and, wrapping his lips around the tip, he moved slowly down until his lips met his fingers, and swept his tongue along the shaft clasped in his mouth. He skimmed back up again, his tongue never ceasing to move in its strokes, and suckled on the head gently, twirling his tongue round and round, dipping in to the opening and lapping at it as if he were a pet.

L wasn't one to moan and grunt, but his breath hitched when Matsuda pressed the tip of his tongue firmly on the underside, near his frenum, and Matsuda took that to mean it was a good thing, so he kept the muscle pointed and firm and pressed and poked and around the head, making its caresses hard and rough, and L's breathing grew less controlled, and Matsuda, growing bored, moved his hand along the shaft while he ravenously suckled on the head.

Ryuuzaki did moan then, and he tangled his hands in Matsuda's hair and pushed his head down further, trying to get him to take his cock further in his mouth, and the officer did, despite the fact that he was never very good at deep throating, and if it went any further he was going to gag, and oh – he did.

Trying to get L's dick from the back of his throat without tensing up and making any particularly gross and off putting noises, Matsuda braced his other hand against a white hip and pushed his head back insistently against equally insistent hands.

He succeeded after a particularly hard suck to the head, which made L almost whimper and his fingers twitch in the locks of hair they were threaded through.

The mouth was removed completely from L's cock while the hand that it was still wrapped in swept upwards to gather the copious amounts of saliva left over as lubricant.

He could have used the lube he had in his pocket, but it was only a small tube and he needed that for later on, or so he hoped.

Besides, he didn't like the taste.

Continuing his firm strokes up and down Ryuuzaki's erection, Matsuda realised that he was definitely going to need more. Trying to be subtle about it (There was nothing more unattractive than the sound of someone hok-king), he drew more spit in to his mouth and dribbled it down over the head.

L would probably like the visual.

Another sound from Light was a temporary distraction, and Matsuda glanced over to him, where he was undoubtedly being given a front row seat to the entire show.

What he saw made him stop in utter astonishment.

Light was watching them. Not just a glance out of the corner of his eye, but an outright stare.

His face was twisted in mild disgust…but his cheeks were flushed, and there was no hiding the glazed eyes or the fact that his hair was slightly mussed, as if he had run his own hands through it more than once.

He was watching the two men, and he was doing it with a mixture of disgusted fascination, distaste, helpless anger, and maybe the budding hint of desire and it elated Matsuda, and sent a rush of lust through him that hit him as hard as a punch in the stomach.

He looked so …well, fuckable.

Then Light noticed Matsuda looking. There must have been something in his gaze, because the teen's eyes darkened in response.

He looked uncertain now too, but he also looked a little more turned on, which was confusing in itself for both of them, but before Matsuda could say anything, whether it was something reassuring or something full of desire, the hands in his hair yanked pointedly and guided him almost forcefully back on to Ryuuzaki's erection.

Matsuda complied.

He followed his hand with his mouth, moving down and then retreating, making slurping noises to tantalize Light and caressing up and down L's shaft with his tongue, trying to make him feel as good as possible.

It must have been working, because his hips were moving jaggedly, trying to thrust deeper, get further in to the heat that was enveloping his cock, and tiny, breathy sounds were escaping his lips, and they were so hot, and Matsuda was so horny, and god!

He shifted the hand on Ryuuzaki's hips, deciding it was okay for Ryuuzaki to thrust, because his hand was preventing him from it going down too far, and that level of abandon was arousing anyway, so he moved it down to cup his balls, manipulating the fleshy sac between his fingers.

And L whimpered.

The sound went straight down to Matsuda's groin, and he couldn't help it, he moaned around Ryuuzaki' cock and he squeezed his balls, not quite gently, and sped up his movements, sucking as hard as he could.

His mouth was roughly thrust in to and the hands in his hair were too tight, but it was okay because L was close, Matsuda could feel it as he grew almost impossibly hard in his lips and as his balls clenched.

A groan was ripped from Ryuuzaki's throat as he tensed, and then he was exploding in Matsuda's mouth in uneven spurts.

He swallowed it as it came, because he had never liked the bitter, stale taste and he wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible.

Slowly, Ryuuzaki relaxed beneath him, the fingers in his hair uncurling and his body settled back on the chair, spent. Matsuda took the still hard member from his lips, and delicately licked it clean of any remaining fluids (no sense in leaving behind a mess, after all), and leant back to drink in the sight of a post-coital detective.

He looked…well, he looked rather boneless actually.

His hair was its usual rat's nest, but there was a delicate blush of the palest pink to his cheeks that was actually quite cute, and his eyes were half lidded, as if he were considering a little nap.

Matsuda couldn't help his little smile, and he slipped Ryuuzaki's ugly underwear back up over his knees, careful not to move so much (he was still painfully hard).

When he tried to follow suit with the jeans pooled inelegantly around slim ankles however, equally slim hands pushed his hands away with an air of slight impatience and finished the job; covering the appropriate body parts swiftly and deftly.

It was only when delicate fingers buttoned up the loose jeans around narrow hips that Matsuda found that he could stop staring.

Ryuuzaki wasn't the conventional sort of handsome that Light was, but his skin was smooth, and he was slender and surprisingly lithe for all of his awkward positions and bad posture. His pale skin made his dark eyes stand out in a surprisingly strong contrast; he just looked so not Japanese, so foreign, that it was attractive.

"You are staring, Matsuda." L informed him.

Matsuda blushed and dropped his eyes. He was not quite game enough to get up yet though, because his feelings on the previous activities were still too obvious, and it was embarrassing.

Funny how he had just wrapped his lip around L's cock, and yet he was too shy to let him know that he liked it.

They were right, he _was_ an idiot.

Still kneeling, he chanced a glance at Light, but Light had turned his chair away from the two and was looking resolutely at the paper in front of him as if it had the answer to Life's mysteries. Matsuda doubted that he even saw it though.

It was as if that exchange had never happened.

Matsuda knew it did though, because he only made up things like that in his head when he was drunk or when he was by himself and absolutely nothing else to do, and had already masturbated. Or was thinking about it.

This was neither of those times.

Trying to will away his erection, Matsuda stood up slowly, standing on front of Ryuuzaki awkwardly with his hands clasped in front of him.

Why won't it just go away?

The discomfort was palpable.

Matsuda hunched in front of L and tried to smile but had the feeling that it looked more like a grimace. He couldn't quite meet the inscrutable dark eyes that were looking at him with an expression that he wasn't familiar with, and he faltered beneath it.

Light was pretending that they didn't exist.

Matsuda shuffled from foot to foot, hoping for an end to the rather…odd turn of events.

…Maybe this wasn't such a great idea.

He cleared his throat.

"…Uh, I think I should go now," He blurted. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to get it in a semblance of order after the ordeal it had been put through.

He didn't bother rearranging his clothes; he just leant down towards L.

And then stopped.

What the hell was he thinking? He could have kicked himself. He straightened, his face flaming, berating himself silently for attempting to make this more than it was.

They were right, he was stupid.

He cleared his throat again, and mumbled a goodbye, while L merely looked nonplussed at his peculiar behaviour, which only humiliated Matsuda even more.

So Matsuda did the only thing that he felt he could do in the wake of the tension: he bailed.

Running his fingers through his hair once more, he turned and walked as quickly as he could out of the complex, stumbling on his way out.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: She doesn't own Death Note.

Sorry that it has taken this long. It was there and waiting, as is the next chapter and a half, which she will get around to finishing soon.

Thankyou very much to her reviewers. Remember, if you have any questions, qualms or queries, please do not hesitate to let her know.

Thankyou.

**Chapter 3.**

Matsuda was so bored that he wanted to cry.

He had been sitting in the same place for the entire day, looking at what felt like the exact same piece of paper (Which it pretty much was: the gradually increasing pile kept somehow finding itself poked at unenthusiastically, examined just as unenthusiastically, sighed at once or twice and that was about it) and sitting in the exact same uncomfortable chair.

Mogi had discovered the names of Yotsuba's employees three days ago (Much to the delight of L and the envy of Matsuda), and L had instructed that everybody be given a specific country to go over.

Matsuda didn't know why they had to look through the _entire_ list.

His back was sore from sitting down all day and he was a little worried that if he kept on going the way that he was that he would end up with posture as bad as Ryuuzaki's.

…Not that he wanted to think about Ryuuzaki at all – he had done it far too much last night and all of that morning, thankyou-very-much and he was getting quite fed up with it.

The way he felt under his fingers, the way his lips felt, the way his…

Banishing that thought from his mind with great difficulty, Matsuda looked at the stack of paper sitting by his left hand and sighed morosely.

It was so big that it was intimidating.

He was so bored.

Unwillingly depressed by the small mountain of white taking up perfectly good space by him, Matsuda graciously allowed himself to be distractedby the other occupants of the room.

Mogi was sitting at the wooden table to Matsuda's right with a cup of coffee (That he had thankfully made himself) and a (Smaller) pile of his own, Aiber and Wedy were sitting opposite him and conversing in English, obviously amused at something-or-other, while Ryuuzaki and Light poured over research.

The Chief was nowhere to be seen.

The stack of paper that he had was bigger than everybody else's, he thought with a pout.

Slightly miffed that he was obviously being made to do more work than anyone else (Ignoring the fact that he actually _hadn't_ been doing any work and that was the underlying reason that he had a lot more), Matsuda decided that he sure as hell wasn't going to go over any more of those silly sheets today, because he had just about had enough of them, thankyou!

It wasn't like he could concentrate anyway.

It.

Was.

So.

_Boring._

Not to mention _uncomfortable._

If he had known that the awkwardness that he had felt from the previous night would not have dissipated by the next day, he probably would have pretended to be ill. He could have spent the day masturbating and watching B-grade talk shows (Not at the same time), and it would have been far more enjoyable than stewing in his own turmoil in a big metal box and trying not to look out of the corner of his eye at the man sitting next to him.

He was so _aware_ of L that it was making him crazy!

And it was so much worse because L was taking absolutely no notice of him.

He could have handled it if he was given any indication that the other party was affected at all by the previous evenings tryst, but Ryuuzaki had so far treated him with blasé indifference.

He was acting no differently at all.

And for the life of him, Matsuda didn't know how to act back. It seemed as if he was the only one who seemed to remember what happened.

…Well, that wasn't entirely true.

Light certainly remembered.

Very well, actually.

In fact, Light had spent the entire day so far refusing to acknowledge anything to do with Ryuuzaki. He did not speak to Ryuuzaki, he did not look at Ryuuzaki, he ignored Ryuuzaki's attempts at conversation, and he stayed as far away from him as he possibly could.

The only time that he and Matsuda had had eye contact, both of them went as red as tomatoes and decided that ignoring each other was okay.

Oddly enough, despite the fact that Matsuda was the one who had initiated the incident, Ryuuzaki was the one Light seemed to be angriest at, which puzzled Matsuda to no end.

It seemed as if he were blaming the person whose fault it wasn't, instead of the person whose fault it was.

It was something that went completely over the older officer's head.

After all, Light did not desire Ryuuzaki the same way the he desired him. He was even worse than Matsuda when it came to hiding his feelings: childish idealism, and all that.

Nobody else really noticed their peculiar behaviour towards each other.

Except maybe Aiber (Aiber was too aware of everything): Matsuda had noticed him eyeing the three (Especially Matsuda) far more frequently with an odd unreadable expression on his too handsome face.

It was as if the foriegner knew everything...

...Matsuda scolded himself for being paranoid and pushed it out of his mind.

No matter what he thought, Aiber was just a normal human being.

He needed to stop being so ridiculous.

Anyway, it wasn't as if their behaviour was a big deal; He supposed that the others probably thought Light and Ryuuzaki had another fight, and nobody paid enough attention to him to actually notice anything other than when he was doing something childish or not.

He was temporarily distracted from his train of thought by something far more interesting.

The sight of Ryuuzaki all but fellating a small piece of cake sitting innocently on his spoon. His mind proceeded to provide him with a series of vulgar and very tantalizing images of Ryuuzaki doing the exact same thing, except naked and between Matsuda's legs.

Matsuda tried in vain to dispel the thoughts: however his mind was far more intent on them than anything else.

Oh god, why could he think of nothing _else?_

The smell of him, the taste of him and the feel of his fingers through Matsuda's hair and tickling along his sides were all assaulting him in a manner that was really distracting, and if he didn't stop thinking about it he was going to get an erection and then he would be stuck in his seat until it went away, or until everybody could find something to do long enough so that he could dart to the bathroom and jerk off (Again), because it seemed as if they had been really stubborn lately.

It was stupid that it was affecting him so much.

In fact, he was _really_ having second thoughts about the wisdom of his decision anyway. It was a dumb idea to offer himself to L like that.

The guy didn't know how to sit properly, let alone how to handle getting a blowjob from a coworker. Or subordinate, or whatever the hell he was.

Although, not much could be said when the person who actually performed the action was having trouble themselves.

Annoyed and confused at the entire situation, Matsuda sighed heavily and unenthusiastically took the first piece of paper from the pile.

The clock had seemed to have been clued in to the tension between the small group, and was maliciously ensuring that time not only stopped, but actually went backwards.

At least, that's what Matsuda thought.

Why else would time go this slow?

It was still early in the evening, and from the looks of things nobody was near ready to leave.

He turned back to the meaningless names in front of him, but he found it hard to concentrate with all of the sounds around him: the steady tapping of Ryuuzaki's keyboard, the crudely nasal tones of the two professional criminals yapping away in the language that Matsuda only knew bits and pieces of and the rather loud slurps of Mogi having at his third coffee. Everything seemed louder in the empty, hollow room, echoed tenfold and thrown about in a cacophany of noise guaranteed to ensure a headache.

Trying desperately to concentrate, he stared at the names that made so little sense to him until they blurred and his eyes teared up. He held back a sigh and blinked away the water that was obscuring his vision.

He just wanted to go home.

Home to his calm, peaceful and overall _quiet_ apartment with its plain, scratchy carpet, and the over stuffed bright yellow sofa and its ugly beige walls that the landlord wouldn't let him paint.

Most importantly, to his fridge (Covered with numerous artworks done by his niece) and then to his bed that everybody but him thought was lumpy, so he could eat a crappy T.V. dinner, have some warm sake and just watch television.

But of course thoughts of home led to thoughts of getting home last night and jerking off frantically, which led to reflections of what he and Ryuuzaki had done, and what it meant, which just led back to thoughts about how much he did not want to be in the complex and then he was just chasing his own proverbial tail, so to speak.

He restrained another sigh.

He supposed if he had decided to stay the night again, he could have just gone upstairs and plonked down on the bed in the room he had unofficially coined as his own. But then again, whether he had decided to stay at the complex (Which he hadn't) or go home, he still didn't want to be the first one to leave, especially when it was still early enough.

Matsuda had begun to go home a lot more often than he did at the initial construction of the enormous complex that L was responsible for.

At first it had been fun having a hotel he could stay at whenever he wanted: a trip away from the loud apparently constantly honeymooning couple next door, and the equally loud but yelling-for-a-different-reason older and possibly foreign couple on the opposite side, but, as time went on, he found he rather missed it.

The noise may have been inconvenient, but somehow he preferred it to the stifling silence of the room he used. Somehow it made it easier to sleep, alone in the bed that had been molded to his body alone, listening to the irate snarls of the old woman (Once he had heard her throw plates) because the younger couple had probably already finished what they were doing.

The occasional return had slowly become more and more common, something of which he was quite pleased about, and not only for the better night sleep.

He was finding it more and more difficult to deal with everyone's tension with the Kira case and the Chief's distress that Light was still cause for suspicion. It was difficult for him to work amongst all of the subsequent bickering and snarling, especially when all he wanted was for everybody to just get along.

…And _then_ there was the incident with the police force.

When Aizawa left, Matsuda found he was more relieved than ever that he had moved back rather than staying in the complex.

Although Aizawa was the one that was more prone to fits of irritated outbursts than anybody else, his leaving (And L's underhanded behaviour before he left) was causing more problems than a few temper tantrums were ever responsible for.

Mogi had seemed particularly upset with what had happened (Although he didn't say anything), and the two foreigner's that L had employed made Matsuda uncomfortable.

Sure they were nice enough, but he just felt like they were laughing at him behind his back, and it was not a nice feeling.

Especially Aiber.

He had a peculiar smile that made whoever it was directed at think simultaneously think that he was incredibly fond of them and that he was secretly laughing at them, and Matsuda felt more than a little nervous around him.

He was just too _smooth_.

He reminded Matsuda both of the more popular boys at his high school that teased him mercilessly, and one of those secret agents from the American movies.

Everyone else seemed to be comfortable around him though, and Matsuda couldn't help but wonder that he was being paranoid.

Then, the subject of his thoughts raised his eyebrow very charmingly at Matsuda and bared his perfect teeth in a winsome smile, and he realised that he had been staring and jerked his eyes away, his face flooding with mortification.

He was so embarrassed that he failed to notice that the tick-tick-ticking of keystrokes had ceased, and when he dared to look up again (Very surely _not_ in the direction of the blonde man) he saw that the Chief was leaning over L and they were deep in conversation.

He wasn't close enough to hear their quietly spoken words, but the serious looks he could see only in profile were a small cause for concern.

He attempted to watch them surreptitiously, inching closer as slowly as he could so that he could hear them.

Although the buzzing murmur of their voices became more prominent as he painstakingly dragged his wheely chair closer, he still could not make out what they were saying. Before he could sidle towards them any more, the Chief straightened and turned away, rearranging the suit jacket hanging from his shoulders.

In the flurry of flying paper and pen that magically appeared in Matsuda's hands, he missed the look that crossed both of the men's faces, something of which he would have been both relieved and annoyed about if he was aware of it.

Instead, he did not realise that he had – for once during the entire course of the day – garnered Ryuuzaki's wide eyed attention until the man rather unceremoniously pushed Matsuda's chair around and pushed his face into an uncomfortable and entirely too welcome proximity to the officer's own.

Matsuda gulped.

And went bright red.

_ohmygodheisrighttherewhatishegoingtodoohmygodohmygodohmygod_

His brain rather helpfully went into overdrive and left poor Matsuda to flap his jaw a little like a fish and splutter. But only a little.

"Uhh…" He told the pale face in front of him.

Of course, Ryuuzaki being the man that he is (The man that he is has enough social skill to fit comfortably in to a thimble) took no notice; indeed seemed _not_ to notice and merely stared with an entirely serious expression.

His eyes were so big, and so dark, Matsuda felt as if he were going to drown. He was helpless before a man who did not even seem to know it, and he wanted to fall in to the pools of his eyes and sink into that blissful blackness.

His own eyes grew wider and wider, and they stung, like they were going to bulge out of his sockets and fall on the floor, probably with a rather grotesque splat, and Matsuda wrinkled his nose at the idea. And then Ryuuzaki opened his feminine and entirely too white lips to speak and ruined the moment and Matsuda was thankful and incredibly disappointed.

"I have a job for you," He said in that soft little way of his, and the officer's heart leapt about like an excited frog.

"It is very important."

"Misa-Misa is so excited!" She shrieked, and indeed, she sounded it, "Matsu gets to be her _manager_ for real now!"

And then she squealed a little for emphasis and threw her arms around him as if jumping around and half deafening the men in the room was not enough to prove said point.

When he felt her slender body against his and her soft breasts pressed against his chest though, he felt a little embarrassed, but he didn't mind.

She was very pretty, after all.

And Light wouldn't object.

Indeed, he probably would be a little relieved that Misa-Misa had somebody else in her vice grip for a change, and Matsuda did not mind having an attractive model latched around his neck, calling him by a pet name, and he minded even less when young Light seemed a little less harried than he did when she was around.

Ryuuzaki had explained it to him yesterday.

Misa-Misa was currently employed to begin shooting a movie, some romance film with none other than Ryuuga Hideki (Whom Matsuda happened to _adore_ - he had watched every single one of his films _and_ taped the soap opera that he was currently starring in, but that was something he kept to himself) playing the other main role.

Ryuuzaki had explained that he wanted somebody trustworthy to continue keeping an eye on Misa-Misa, and that everybody felt he was perfect for the role, both as manager and as spy.

Matsuda felt kind of guilty having to spy on Misa-Misa, whom he could not see as the second Kira, or in fact any Kira at all, but that was something he also kept to himself, along with his secret love of girlie films and his opinion of Kira's justice.

Anyway, he was happy that Ryuuzaki had found some kind of use for him, especially since it meant that he didn't have to do paperwork anymore.

So he sat there, his smile cheerful and abashed as the voluptuous girl bounced around the five of them (Aiber and Wedy had disappeared outside about an hour ago) and nattered away about how she was so happy that 'Matsu' was her manager and that she hoped that Light wasn't jealous that she was starring in a movie with a famous actor and that it was okay because she loved only him and when were they going to go on a date – a proper one – not one where Ryuuzaki had to come along and Ryuuzaki was a bit of a pervert anyway and his skin was much too pale!

Light reminded her as he had done a thousand times that it was a necessity and it was much better than the other options, but she didn't care, because she wanted her Light and would he take her shopping? Because she really wanted some new clothes and her favourite shade of lipstick was gone and she needed some immediately.

Then Matsuda offered to take her. It was a little surprising actually, even to him and he promptly gave a sheepish laugh and went a little pink in the cheeks.

She looked at him with her huge brown eyes, and he couldn't determine the expression on her face, but he could see Light in his peripheral vision thanking him fervently with his eyes alone and Matsuda felt a little less embarrassed.

Then Misa-Misa surprised him when she announced that she would love to go shopping with Matsu.

Her laughter was rather adorable, Matsuda decided.

His feet were aching and his arms throbbed, but as he sat with his hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate and she sat opposite him sipping water and giggling at his awkward attempt at a joke, he found he didn't mind a bit.

After numerous hours of running back and forth, Misa-Misa's "some new clothes and lipstick" had turned in to seven new shirts, two new jackets, at least three skirts and eight – count eight – new pairs of shoes. And that isn't even mentioning the three new dolls that looked as if a Voodoo shaman had decided to give them a makeover, and a few thousand yen worth of makeup.

And Matsuda, the gentleman that he was, had unwittingly become a pack mule.

Exhausted, he had suggested the small coffee shop towards the end of the mall rather desperately, and to his relief she had agreed, although she only drank the mineral water he was more than happy to sit there with her and sip hot chocolate while he listened to her giggle endearingly.

He realised that he could probably fall in love with Misa-Misa in his own shy, unassuming way, and he wondered if Ryuuzaki would mind.

He sighed.

Of course he wouldn't. It was pointless to think in such a manner; Ryuuzaki cared very little about how Matsuda felt, or what he did, as long as he did what Ryuuzaki told him to when he told him to. The thought annoyed Matsuda, and made him feel a little melancholy at the same time.

"…came with her even though she asked!" Misa-Misa was saying.

And he forced all thoughts of Ryuuzaki out of his head so he could concentrate on her words, and took another sip of his hot chocolate.

…It really _was_ very good.

It was late in the evening when they finally returned, laden with bags and boxes of assorted clothes and makeup and assorted bits and pieces for Misa-Misa's room and goodness knows what else.

Matsuda could barely see over the pile in his sobbing arms, but he did catch the amusement mingled with horror in the men's faces as he finally trudged through the door (It had taken them three tries to get through the stringent security) and up the stairs.

He ignored them with as much dignity as he could muster acting the part of a model's personal pack beast, and it was with much relief when he dumped the enormous load on her enormous bed.

A few packages tumbled off and spilt their contents on the dull carpet, the bright pinks and red twists of fabric contrasting sharply with the cream they sprawled upon.

Misa-Misa did not appear to be concerned; she just collapsed on one of the couches and sighed expansively, kicking off her heels as if she had no care in the world.

He suddenly wished that it were the case.

Matsuda smiled self-consciously at her, and she smiled back, her teeth shiny and very white.

"Misa-Misa had lots of fun with Matsu today," She told him, and if she were tired at all it didn't show in her voice.

"I had fun too," Matsuda told her, because he did. It felt like he had a girlfriend, watching her try on clothes (She looked pretty in them all) and have hot chocolate with her, and have her hang off his arm while men left and right looked at him with envy, and it was fun.

And what was better, Misa didn't scold him for saying things she thought was stupid, or make him feel as if he couldn't do anything or that he somehow wasn't a good officer or was naïve, and she certainly didn't inspire such confusing thoughts and ideas that Ryuuzaki did.

She made him feel as if he was almost important to her: not important like Light was, but like a friend, like somebody she was fond of, and enjoyed spending time with, and Matsuda could easily see how he could very well become smitten with her, because it wasn't often that people treated him like that.

It was too often people treated him with a mix of amused disdain and exasperation, and the difference was almost overwhelming.

So he tentatively sat down in the couch opposite her, ready to up and leave if he wasn't welcome, but her cute little smile only widened to encompass the sudden warmth that he felt, and she asked him if Light would want to come up to see them.

Matsuda knew Light wouldn't, but he didn't want to say that to Misa-Misa, because he felt a little sorry for her about the whole thing, so he merely said that Light was probably busy.

She agreed.

And so they sat.

At first, they said very little, fatigue and perhaps even a slight awkwardness stilling their tongue, but, slowly, their conversation flowed more easily, and soon it was as it was at the café, their laughter falling as freely as their words, and Matsuda, for once in a very long time, felt completely at ease.

  


	4. Yotsuba

She just wished to thank everyone for the reviews, she was very appreciative of them.

She wishes to apologise for taking so long to update, and wishes to inform you that, like the other three chapters, this one is also unBETAed, but hopefully that will soon change, and she will repost the edited chapters.

Thankyou all for your patience.

And onwards.

**Chapter Four. Yotsuba.**

"Director," Misa-Misa announced imperiously, "Misa-Misa has a boyfriend now, so can we skip the love scenes?"

Matsuda sighed above the loud protests from the man the statement was directed at.

She had been doing this all day: Light wouldn't like this, and Light would get angry about that. She had even asked Ryuuga to change his hairstyle so that was more reminiscent of her beau's.

Matsuda had at first been mortified, and then a little amused at Misa-Misa's impetuous demands. He knew that if she were any less sought after, the Director would have dropped her in a flash, but, alas, she was a famous and very talented little actress, so they inevitably bent over backwards to please her.

They all did.

The portly man standing behind the camera (Matsuda couldn't remember his name for the life of him) was alternating between looking as if he were going to cry or as if he wanted to get very drunk.

The rail thin man behind him however looked as if he wished to wrap his fingers around Misa-Misa's pretty neck.

Matsuda rather hoped that he didn't, because he didn't think she would like that.

With half an ear he heard Misa-Misa informing them that they could pretend to kiss, and the Director's moan of despair, and although he wasn't actually looking that way, he could imagine Ryuuga's now customary look of horror and shock that seemed to appear every single time that Misa-Misa insinuated that she didn't seem inclined to fall head over heels for the most attractive man on television.

He was obviously not accustomed to it.

However, as trying as the shoot had been thus far, he found himself unable focus on it.

Unable to concentrate on the comings and goings of the others had resulted in him missing the designated lunch break, and having to sneak off for a snack. Misa-Misa had told him off already for his lack of diligence - at which he had apologised profusely.

However, something had been hovering over his consciousness for the entire day, rendering him a vague, distracted mess.

Well, it wasn't so much hovering over his conscious as belting it half to death with a large bat.

The gargantuan glass and metal monstrosity that was the main office of the Yotsuba Group was standing rather smugly, pretty much a hop, a skip and a jump away from where Matsuda stood, paper cup in hand. And what it lost in subtlety, it certainly made up for in sheer opportunity.

The entire group was working towards what could be in that building.

More specifically, Ryuuzaki was working towards what could be in that building.

The risky move he had executed more than a fortnight ago had flopped, and again Matsuda was of little to no use to Ryuuzaki, and contributed nothing to the team.

It wasn't just that he was overshadowed by the two young and unbelievably ingenious men (hell, they all were), but Mogi's thoroughness and the Chief's experience was leaving him looking more than a little lacking.

He found the things that he had relied on in the NPA – his earnestness, his lightheartedness and his ability to follow orders were worth nothing in the world he had naively gotten himself in to, and it was frustrating.

That building represented Ryuuzaki's desire, and therefore his, but was just out of reach.

Its cool perfection was mocking him, showing him exactly what he could have, and what was so impossible to achieve.

And so, with the night air sweet and cool and the paper cup of grossly sweetened black coffee (they had run out of milk) warm in his hands, Matsuda made a decision.

It was a Friday night, after all. The Chief had told them that the deaths that benefit Yotsuba were carried out on this night.

He could find something, he knew he could.

This was finally his chance to prove himself – his _real_ chance!

He turned and ran, abandoning his flowery pink paper cup unthinkingly.

* * *

Security in Yotsuba's Tokyo office was pitiful, even more in comparison to Ryuuzaki's headquarters…but then again, why would it have needed to rival it?

Until very recently, the two were in entirely different ball parks.

Matsuda had no problems sneaking past the single security officer that guarded the complex, and apparently none of the vacant-eyed and tired looking employees found a formally dressed man they did not recognize out of place.

Still, he was worried.

His wanderings were largely unhindered, but he avoided their gaze's none-the-less and eventually found an elevator, a few flights up. A large group of men were walking in his direction, and anxious not to be noticed, the young officer hid himself in the adjacent hall and pressed himself surreptitiously against the wall opposite.

His stomach was turning in knots and threatening to purge what little he had eaten today all over the cheap industrial carpet, and he wondered if perhaps he should just sneak in behind the men, mingle in with them and just turn back?

But it was never really a serious thought.

He wanted to go through with this; he needed to go through with this: he would not turn back now, that he was half way there anyway, and there would be no point, no matter the risk.

However his mind appeared to be in league with his gut, because it chose at that moment to pointedly conjure up a dozen rather awful mental images of various tortures that he would be subject to if he were caught – all of them, funnily enough, carried out by a faceless man with glowing red eyes while Ryuuzaki laughed and told him he deserved it.

Hovering in the face of his indecision, Matsuda failed to notice the two men at the elevator until a gruff, gravelly voice doused his hyperactive anxiety with cold reality.

"…Another one tonight," It said, "It sucks."

The voice in question belonged to a man as husky as his vocals. His hair was a golden mat, long and thick, and his mustache was bristly.

Matsuda flattened himself tighter against the wall, as if it could somehow melt and envelop him inside of it.

"At least it is the end of the week," The other man was saying.

He was a man as pale as his partner was ruddy, as clean cut as the other was rugged. His hair was dark, and his porcelain chin oversized.

"If these 'Secret' meetings kept us late on a Monday, I'd be too depressed to go to work."

Matsuda's heart stopped.

His entire being flooded with hope as heady as the most potent sake.

Secret meetings? _Bingo!_

If he was game enough, he would have done a little victory dance.

He heard more than saw the elevator shut, silencing the soft chuckles and he darted out. His heart had not only started beating again, but had come back with a vengeance, pounding in eagerness as he watched the floor numbers light up individually, going up and up and up.

Finally it rested at nineteen.

The nineteenth floor!

He turned and pelted towards the stairs.

He ran until his chest _burned_ and his breath was coming in gasps. His legs were throbbing; the muscles shrieking on protest but he did not even think to rest.

His mind was egging him on, fuelling him with wonderful thoughts: of Ryuuzaki's smile and praise when he offered him the one piece of information that led them to Kira. Of how he would perhaps wrap his slender arms around Matsuda, or kiss him, and Matsuda was elated and he couldn't stop until he gave the black haired man what he needed, so that maybe, just maybe, he would notice Matsuda again.

Like he did when he was kneeling between his thighs, and even just before that, when Matsuda had told him he could help and it was like Ryuuzaki were seeing him for the first time.

And After a decade, a century, an aeon he was there, he was on the floor - _the nineteenth floor_ - and he allowed his body to take in huge gulps of sweet air.

He rested his hands on his aching thighs as his wheezes eventually calmed to pants and his heart ceased its desperate attempt to escape his ribcage until and only then was he calm enough to take in his surroundings.

Floor nineteen was opulent; rich maroon carpet sprawled underfoot luxuriously, and the large double door that faced him with practiced ease was functionally carved but obviously overpriced wood.

Two corridors branched off either side, like the wings of a well groomed condor.

It was obvious that the room behind this door was the one that was holding whatever private dalliance that the two were apart of.

Excited beyond belief, he found it hard to approach the door with caution, but he took care to be as silent as possible as he pressed the delicate shell of one ear against the warm heavy surface.

At first he heard nothing but his own breathing and the murmur of indistinct voices, muttering that eventually became discernable and turned in to words like "Stock prices," and "Kill," and "Kira," and his heart was in his mouth and his breathing was hard and heavy and his blood rushed madly through him in rabid victory because he had proof – tangible proof –

And then he was falling…His hands no longer scaled grooved wood but flew gracelessly through the air and hit thick, rough carpet and it wasn't victory coursing through his veins anymore but cold, unadulterated fear that oozed like sludge.

* * *

The room that he was sitting in was done entirely in grey, as if the colour had been bled out of it.

The small sofa that he was perched on like an antsy bird was rough beneath his sweaty palms, and before him, the granite table held all of the effects that had been on his person – numerous business cards, a notepad and pen, his wallet and his mobile phone.

These had all been retrieved during a very embarrassing and very personal search of his body and his clothing.

Of the two men instructed to keep a watch on him, he thought he recognised the dark haired man as the man from the elevator, but the other, the one with white blonde hair and frown lines, was unfamiliar.

He had determined from the almost inaudible conversation between then earlier that the general consensus was that he was not a spy, but the sick feeling in his stomach reassured him that the other men were discussing his surely horrible fate anyway.

"I hope you consider Misa-Misa," He told them, mostly to break the thick, terrifying silence, with only a passing thought to the need to keep up the act.

He found himself running his hand through the hair at the base of his skull – his mother had done it as a child to soothe him, and he found that it had become pretty much standard behaviour when he was nervous or scared.

Old habits die hard.

He found himself frantically worrying if the emergency button was working, and even if it was would Ryuuzaki even bother to save him? It wasn't as if he was contributing to the group, or as if he were useful in any way and slowly despair as much as fear seeped through him, but even more his sense of determination – he would try to get out of this one alone, if Ryuuzaki wasn't going to assist and –

His thought was cut short as a rather ghastly tune broke the silence, and he realised belatedly that it as his phone, and Misa-Misa had changed his ring tone so that they could have matching songs.

He was told to answer it, so he did, and the voice, although speaking in an odd undulating manner, was Ryuuzaki's and it was achingly familiar, and hope melted his fear away like butter, leaving only his relief and his determination behind.

He held the phone out so that his captor's could hear, as instructed.

"It's me, Asahi," Ryuuzaki informed him, and asked him questions as to whether he was home, and whether he was alone, and Matsuda answered in the affirmative to both, because 'alone' must refer to Misa-Misa, and then Ryuuzaki invited him out for a drink, which Matsuda declined, and Ryuuzaki asked if his wallet were in a pinch, to which Matsuda stopped.

A pinch?

And then he laughed, a nervous laugh, and answered that yes, his wallet was in a big pinch, and then he said "You know me," and it was an apology and an explanation at the same time, but Ryuuzaki dismissed it and hung up.

It was with new resolve that he met the gazes of the men before him.

"So, about Misa-Misa?"

And so their verbal sparring match began, and eventually the blonde man relented, and Matsuda was able to call Misa-Misa to arrange a meeting.

* * *

She was dressed to wow, and wow she did.

Her adorable – and very revealing – outfit was pink and white, and she chattered at the eight men charmingly, but he doubted that any of them actually heard a word she said.

He could hear murmured approval between them, and he smiled at them all winsomely, but they paid him less heed than a sack of rice, until she turned to him and said;

"The people at the office approved putting on the special business welcome for Yotsuba."

And of course he had no idea what she was on about, but he played along.

In the end, they were all carted to an expensive room in a nearby hotel where numerous women as beautiful as Misa-Misa greeted them.

"This evening, all of the girl's from the Production Company are here!" She informed them, and urged them in to comfortable slippers and just as comfortable cream seats that faced tables laden with food while the horde of beauties poured them sake and flirted prettily.

He wished that it was under a different circumstance that he was there, because he wanted to enjoy himself, and to flirt a little even though the women were out of his league.

But he couldn't, not with his impending death surrounding him like a black fog, so the sake he drank was to supply him with bravado and not to savour, and the women that giggled and chirped were not approached.

While the men from Yotsuba were occupied with cleavage and sushi, he slipped Misa-Misa's pretty pink phone into his pant pocket (They had not returned his) while its many charms clacked and said to nobody in particular, "I'm going to the bathroom."

He kept up the façade of calm collectiveness up until he shut the door, and then he ran down the hall as if the hounds of hell were at his heels and locked himself in the toilet, pulling out Misa's little pink flip top and dialing as he went.

"Ryuuzaki, are you watching?" He demanded in to the phone, and his voice sounded a little high in his own ears.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry…" He tried to say, "…I"

"That doesn't matter now," Ryuuzaki told him, and Matsuda didn't know whether he was trying to be reassuring, but it deepened rather than assuaged his sense of guilt.

"These eight people were having a meeting to decide whom Kira will kill," He said instead, "I heard them!"

And he held his breath and waited for the words that he needed.

"…Is that so?" Ryuuzaki asked thoughtfully, and Matsuda faltered a little.

"But if you heard them," he continued, oblivious, "They're going to want to kill you."

And his heart fell two floors.

Those words were going to remain unsaid, and he knew it for certain, and somehow that hurt more than the idea that he may die very soon could.

"I thought so," He was unable to keep his voice neutral - he just hoped that it was assumed that it was for a different reason.

"Is there no way to save me?"

There was. But as Ryuuzaki told him exactly how he had to survive that night, he felt as if perhaps it would be easier to just face the music.

It was crazy, and risky. In the time he had been in the Police force he had never attempted a stunt such as this.

Funnily enough, he never questioned Ryuuzaki's words: if the detective said it would work, it would, and so he went, blind in his own trust.

The rest of the night passed in a vague haze for Matsuda, flashing by him in a whirl of colour and voices and cold, cold air. He remembered it, but it was as if it were a dream, a terrifying dream that he did not wish to be a part of, but was.

He remembered Misa-Misa shouting words of encouragement, but he didn't know for sure whether she actually knew what was going on, or whether she was just haphazarding a guess, and his cheerful, slurred chatter while the others cried out in dismay.

Showtime indeed.

And then he allowed himself to slip, and he could feel the icy wind cutting past him like a blade and then it was gone, the mattress lumpy and hard beneath him, and as he recovered from the shock of it all and sat up, he buried his face in his hands.

He was out of danger, he was safe. Ryuuzaki had saved him, but still he felt no relief. Ryuuzaki had not approved of what he had done. He had done it for Ryuuzaki, and the detective had not even said thankyou.

A warm hand covered his right shoulder and he turned; his heart disbelieving and yet hopeful, but his eyes met with the calm, steady gaze of the Chief.

And The Chief nodded, once, and it wasn't Ryuuzaki, but it made him feel better anyway.

* * *

A black car, not cheap but not expensive, perfectly non descript purred softly along equally black tarmac. It was the kind of car nobody would really look twice at, because almost half of the cars in Tokyo were that precise make and colour.

"So why am I staying there?"

He had to lean forward to speak to the Chief, because he was in the back seat. He was a little miffed that he couldn't ride shotgun, but had not complained too much. However, being in the back seat meant he had to stick his head right forward in the gap of the front seats to talk to the Chief, and then he could only see him on profile anyway.

"Because you are supposed to be dead," Matsuda noticed that the older ex policeman's mustache ruffled when he spoke. "You can't be seen in your apartment, or anywhere else for that matter, otherwise people would get suspicious."

He hadn't thought of that.

He sighed. "Oh, but this is annoying," He whined, "What about all my things?"

The Chief's eyebrow twitched a little, and Matsuda wondered whether he should point it out and suggest that perhaps his Chief go see a doctor, because it seemed to do it a lot, but then realised that he might be sensitive about it. So instead, Matsuda flopped back in the seat and looked out the window.

Not that he could see anything.

The window tint was so dark that he was certain that it was illegal - and being an ex police officer, he would know.

"Watari will have them retrieved," He said finally.

Despairingly, Matsuda wondered whether or not he could find the old man to tell him about his niece's artwork on the fridge - he was very fond of them, and didn't want the dozens of pictures of oddly coloured cats and her "Uncle Matsi" lost or heaven forbid accidentally destroyed.

He bit his lip in worry, and the Chief seemed to take a little pity on him, because he said, "They won't leave anything behind. And I imagine that Watari, having been Ryuuzaki's ward for so many years, understands very well the meaning of privacy."

That was true; Matsuda felt better.


End file.
